One shouldn't be fooled: Netflix's most ambitious series to date, The Crown, is no mere biopic of Queen Elizabeth II.

For example, Peter Morgan's 10-part series doesn't begin, as these things often do, with a servant rushing to the new monarch with news that their predecessor has died. Claire Foy's "Lilibet" spends the first two episodes as a princess, and her coronation doesn't even arrive until episode five.

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

Some episodes aren't even really about Elizabeth at all. She might be ostensibly its lead character but The Crown is about so much more than the early days of her reign.

It's the story of her husband Philip, with his thwarted ambitions and wounded pride, of her prime minister Churchill and his political manoeuvring and rivalries, of her sister Margaret's scandalous love affair with the divorced commoner Group Captain Townsend, and of the former King George.

In fact, the first two episodes, which you might have expected to be dominated by Foy, are utterly stolen by Jared Harris, cutting a tragic and hugely sympathetic figure as the terminally ill sovereign. If he doesn't get at least a look-in at an Emmy, it's a royal scandal.

That's not to say that Foy isn't impressive: with her big, expressive eyes, she makes for an earnest and appealing Elizabeth.

The new queen is at first bewildered and lost in the wake of her father's death, but as she comes more to the fore, so does Foy, taking us on a journey that sees Liz go from being a "nobody" who's easily cowed to a powerful and strident leader who'll make the tough decisions when no-one is willing or able.

Foy's performance is heavier on imitation than Matt Smith's. Though he makes less of an attempt to mimic Philip, he is excellent regardless – and the Duke of Edinburgh's arc across this first season reinforces the idea that The Crown is not so much a biopic as a broader story about loss.

While Albert / George and Elizabeth give up their "ordinary" lives to become monarch, Philip resents being demoted from a decorated naval officer to merely the man on the arm of the most powerful woman in the world.

"You've taken my career from me, you've taken my home, you've taken my name!" he fumes at his wife early on, later declaring himself "a eunuch" when she demands he kneel in front of her at the coronation. But as stony personal secretary Tommy Lascelles tells Philip at the close of ep two, "The crown takes precedence".

Vanessa Kirby, too, is vulnerable and vivacious as the young Princess Margaret (and it doesn't hurt that she bears a striking physical resemblance to the genuine article – it's easy to see why she was cast after originally auditioning for a different part).

Delving into Elizabeth and Philip's marital woes, and Margaret's scandals, The Crown isn't a wholly glowing portrayal of the royals, but nor is it a takedown piece – Philip's "cultural insensitivity", for example, is touched but not dwelt upon.

Less forgiving is Morgan's depiction of Churchill: his buffoonery may be a front, concealing a sharp mind, but he's nonetheless portrayed as rather calculating and at times outright self-serving.

One particularly striking sequence in episode four, 'Act of God' sees Winston clearly affected by the violent death of a secretary, yet still using her death to delay a meeting with the Queen he knows could end his tenure.

John Lithgow as Churchill is undoubtedly the show's riskiest casting choice, but it's a gamble that pays off. As his political adversaries quickly learn, you'd be foolish to underestimate Lithgow's British Bulldog. His theatrics bring levity to what might otherwise be a rather worthy drama, but when required, he brings a weight to his performance too – and we're not just talking about all the padding under that costume.

Morgan is most merciless though when it comes to Edward VIII, with Alex Jennings's Duke of Windsor presented as a self-serving coward who shirked the responsibilities of the crown, ruining, perhaps even ending, lives in the process.

But The Crown's great strength is the variety in its approach, how it flits between characters, between topics and even tones: episode six, about the Margaret / Townsend scandal, is part drama, part comic romp ("I'm confident I've met more interesting plants!" Philip laments of his sister-in-law's beloved).

It's a strength that'll only be bolstered in future seasons when the show will be given a cosmetic refresh, with a whole new cast every few years (even if it'll be a shame to lose some of these faces – of particular note are Pip Torrens as Lascelles and Eileen Atkins as the formidable Queen Mary).

The series already feels rich, thematically, even before you take into account how much actual moolah Netflix has clearly spent on this lavish production. You hear a lot these days about ambitious television shows being like "a 10-hour movie" – but there's really not a single frame of The Crown that would look out of place on the big screen.

Eye-catching location work and smart, sparing use of CGI peppered through give the whole thing a real feel of ambition and sense of grandeur, but the series even more resembles a series of films precisely because each hour homes in on a different character, a different moment or theme: the loss of George, the conniving of his brother, the Great Smog of 1952 which killed thousands…

The real royals – the older ones, at least – can sometimes seem distant, staid, even cold, but The Crown is none of these things. it's a smart, layered and emotional series, and anyone who questions whether it's historically accurate or not is rather missing the point. The first season is simply a fantastic story, well told.